If Brandon had any doubt in his mind about Evan's plan, he didn't show it other than to nod once and put his hand on his pistol. Like Leah, Brandon understood Evan's motives. While he wasn't exactly a fan of having Rodeo bring up the rear behind his sister, either, it was more or a matter of comfort in the groupings than anything else. Likely, he wouldn't have done it much differently, though he'd have been with his sister and Marchand would have been with Charlie. So while he didn't particularly condone the way Marchand had split shit up? He got it.
He was terribly unsurprised to see that Charlie had lockpicking tools, but as she busied herself with picking the lock, Brandon looked around them and then down the road, a force of habit to make sure that nothing had followed them there. When the door was finally open, he followed Charlie into the tower, pistol at the ready for anything that might be there. There was nothing in the immediate vicinity, so he temporarily lowered his pistol out until they got up to the lookout area of the guard tower.
The echo of the door closing jumped Brandon more than anyone else, probably, and he turned around, ready to fire at whatever had managed its way through the door behind them, but when he realized that it was only Rodeo closing the door behind him, he relaxed visibly.
The walk up the staircase was filled with silence, aside from the almost deafening echo of their footfalls on the concrete steps beneath them.
When they were finally inside the observation area, he took the chance to look around. Prison guard towers didn't look anything like he expected them to. The space was enclosed, but still open enough for the three of them to have a little moving room, and it was actually fairly safe in here. The only thing Brandon could see that made for any sort of discomfort was a dead prison guard. Not infected, dead. He'd put a bullet in his own skull, Brandon could see that plainly. He wasn't that long dead, actually. A small part of him wondered if others had this idea before them. Other than that, though... the place appeared to be empty.
"Looks clean," Brandon said of the area, unable to take his eyes off of the visage of the dead man in front of him.
Turning his head away, he looked to Marchand for further orders. He watched the lanky Frenchman start toward the window almost tentatively, like he expected someone to shoot him on sight, and take out his binoculars. After a few seconds of silent watching, he heard the thick, French accent saying, "I can see about two dozen shufflers walking the grounds. They seem more or less unaware of our presence as of yet. Anyone else see anything worth noting?"